Temptation
by Zuza chan
Summary: Sam can't believe his eyes. Dean is here, right in front of him. They can be a family again. But it seems someone has other plans. Will the Winchesters get through yet another turbulence in their relationship? What happened in purgatory? Who pulled Dean out? Will Dean choose Sam, the side of the angels? To fight? Will he give up? Or will he resist temptation? So many questions!
1. Prologue

**A.N. No matter how Sam-centric this prologue seems, this story is very much about Dean, and it's mostly his POV. About his psyche after he got out of purgatory, his anger, his faith, how he wants to give up, and his choice in the end. Will their relationship prevail? Will Dean give up? Find out! :)) **

**And don't worry, not all of the story is this sappy and slow.. I'm just not accustomed to writing from Sams POV :P Anyways, Enjoy.**

* * *

Prologue

The rain is just beginning to fall when Sam leaves the motel. He considers going back for an umbrella, decides against it. He is cold already, anyways. He has been this cold for months now, one more night wouldn't make a difference, he thinks bitterly.

The impala is parked just in front of the door of his motel room, but he chooses to ignore it, and walks down the street through the rain. The impala has too many memories in it, and without someone to relieve them with, he doesn't want it anywhere near him. It isn't his to begin with. It's Deans. Deans, whom he should have-

Sam shakes his head, it doesn't matter anymore, hadn't he given up on this a long time ago?

The bar Sam enters is too small and too loud, and he feels a bang in his chest from the all too familiar atmosphere around. He doesn't even like it, it's not the place he wants to be at, he's only here because the hunt is over, and the girl is still at his place, and the day was too long for not being drunk right now.

Sam sits by the counter, goes through the motions, sips beer after beer 'till he feels fuzzy enough and the emotions seem to disperse. He wishes for something more wet, somehow.

"Can I get you another one, sweetheart?" The bartender says in a seductive voice, and the only thoughts that whirl in his brain are '_I haven't realised my glass is empty_' and '_It's sipping, how will I get back.'_

The girl gets his attention as she motions towards the tap, and he shakes his head, and ignores her disappointed look. She is a curly and petite redhead, and she has obviously set her eyes on him, but he can only think; Dean would have liked her.

When he leaves the bar, it's late in the night, or early in the morning, his mind is a little more fuzzy, his wallet a little thinner, and the girl is most likely out of his motel room. And he definitely hasn't had enough to drink, he thinks.

He begins the long walk back home, going street after street at a slow, steady pace. Nobody is waiting for him anyways, he reminds himself. Everybody who should is already dead, or _unavailable_, as Cas would say it. He huffs angrily, being in purgatory equals being _unavailable_ now, does it?

His thoughts wander, he drowns in a memory.

* * *

_"Cas, you're here! Where have you been? Crowley said you were in-"_

_"-purgatory, yes. I managed to zap out somehow." Castiel answered stoically, calmly, and Sam wanted to ask if he was back to normal, but the worry for his brother took over._

_"Where is Dean? Where have you zapped him to, Cas? And why just now, it's been days!" Sam all but yelled, panic setting in at the thought of the few days in which he though Crowley said the truth, in which he thought Dean was-_

_"I didn't get him out. He was the one who stabbed-"_

_"What are you talking about? What do you mean, you didn't get him out?" The threat and danger in his voice must have been palpable, because even the angel took a step back. Sam didn't hear it, didn't know how his voice sounded, or how he looked, what and expression he was making, he could only think of Castiels words. 'I didn't get him out.'_

_"I appeared in purgatory only because the impact of Romans death pulled me in, so I could zap out. But Dean is a prisoner there, Sam, I can't get him out." Something wasn't right, Sam could hear panic in the angels voice, in Castiel's voice, and Cas never panicked. It made goosebumps appear all over Sam's skin._

_"But this is still good news. Now he have a means to communicate. We can make a plan and get Dean-"_

_"I can't get back in, Sam, I'm sorry." Castiel cut him off._

_"What do you mean? But you zapped out, so you can-"_

_"I thought so as well, but as soon as I left, I knew I couldn't return. Dean is on his own." He cut in again._

_"But.. But you could- The angels have to help! They can find a way! We destroyed Roman, cleaned up your mess, they have to do something!" His voice sounded desperate now, and he knew he was speaking a fairytale before Castiel replied._

_"I am sorry Sam, but even if they wanted to, they couldn't help us." A fact, a cold, hard fact which slapped Sam in the face. 'Cause facts were the only things Castiel ever hurt him with. He snorted angrily._

_"Of course they could! They revived me and Dean a thousand time, this less-"_

_"I'm afraid you don't understand. This isn't like any other prison. It's not like it only has guards and stone walls surrounding it. My father made this prison, the purgatory has the strongest chains holding it together."_

_"But we have to do something. We can't just leave him there!" His voice sounded weak and defeated, it reflected his feelings perfectly. All he wanted was for Castiel to stop all this, to tell him he was just joking, or he just forgot Dean there. But Castiel never joked, and he never forgot._

_He turned around, his shoulders slumped, but he was still determined, "There must be a way!"_

_He thought he heard a soft _I'm sorry_, before the fluttering of wings, and when he turned around the angel was gone._

_"What are you sorry for? We will find a way to get him back."_

* * *

That seems like so long ago, Sam thinks, even though it's only a few months back. Back then, he was still set on getting Dean out of purgatory, on saving the day, on reuniting with his only family, on a happy ending.

"I miss you." He whispers into the rain that pours in buckets down his face, and his eyes widen as he thinks he hears his name whispered with a familiar voice. _It's impossible_, he thinks as he turns around, but he forgets the Winchesters specialise in impossible, and there stands Dean, drenched, bloody, on the verge of falling, and so very _real,_ just _there_, that Sam wants to pass out. Yet he hasn't got the chance to do so, Dean is falling before him, and he runs, a little sloppily, and catches his very much alive brother in an embrace.


	2. Returned smiles, and lost hope?

He awoke into a dream. His eyes were closed, but he sent his so called sixth hunter's sense, and searched his surroundings.  
Nothing. No sounds, no smells, no nothing. He squirmed.

_What the-_

"Dean Winchester, It's nice to finally meet you." His heart almost gave out. Who was that? How didn't he see him coming?

"Where am I?" But he didn't wait for an answer. Slowly - _when was the last time he could move so slowly without being in danger?_ - he opened his eyes, and stood. Whiteness everywhere around him. The ground, the sky, the apparition in front of him.

_Maybe I'm finally going insane._

"You're dreaming." The deep rumbling voice said.

"No shit Sherlock." Dean scowled, yet on the inside he was.. happy. How long has it been since he talked to someone? Since someone talked back?

"My name is Amorel. I'm an angel. I am here to ask for your and your brothers help."

"Great, great, another angel? No, thanks, I'd rather not. The last time I helped you lot, my brother ended up in a cage with the _devil_, for a_ year_."

"Dean, I'm not like the other angels. I decided to rebel, against the other archangels, and I need your help, to make heaven a good place again and angels the righteous guardians which they're supposed to be."

"Rebel? You're rebeling against god?" A memory resurfaced.

_'God wants you to back off.'_

"Dean, god left heaven a long time ago. I can't rebel against someone who doesn't want anything to do with us anymore. But I decided we have to stop all this wrong. We should have done so a long time ago."

"Oh, you think so?" The bitterness in his voice would have made any man flinch, yet the angel only stood there, cold and motionless, and angel- like. God, how Dean hated them.

'God wants you to back off.'

"You and your brother are both the same. He wouldn't even hear of it as well." the angel talked with fondness and affection, yet Dean didn't believe it one second. He _couldn't_. Maybe he never would be able to, again."Well, I think this may have changed his mind."

"Well, It hasn't changed mine, so, back off." Dean grit out. Why wouldn't he just leave him alone?

"Dean, unfortunately, our time together is up. We will meet again, in real life, and I hope you will have changed your mind. I need you, heaven needs you." Why? Why him? He can't get one second of peace from those sons of-

_'God wants you to back off.'_

Dean thought ugly pieces of things. Why doesn't god like me? What am I doing wrong?

"When have you helped me when I needed you?"

"I brought you back from heaven, son." Again with the false fondness.

"A little late." He repressed the tears held in him for years. It showed in his voice.

"I pulled you out of purgatory, son ."

"You pulled me out? Well, you know what? You were a little _late._" The tears seemed to flow out of his words instead. Little traitors.

"I am sorry, son. I needed time. We-"

"I AM NOT, YOUR SON! And you needed time? You needed 7 months? You know what I did while you needed time? I fought monsters, alone, and cold, _for 7 fucking months!_ I don't care what you need-"

"Dean!" The angels voice changed its colour, it's texture. It deepened, sounded frantic, but he didn't care, he needed to get this out now, he needed to yell, he _needed-_

"I spent months begging for help, for shelter, for food, for something! And you know what came? More of those monsters."

"Dean, please!" The voice started sounding familiar, rough, worried. He ignored it.

"I had to learn how to stay alive all on my own. In that endless, dark forest, squeezed between the worst kind of beasts, without family, without friends, without anyone! So excuse me if I don't want to be_ friends_ with you anymore."

"Dean, wake up!" echoed around, and an earthquake shook the ground, or rather, the dream.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes to brown, concerned ones.

Sammy.

"Dean, are you alright? You slept for days, and then you started tossing and shouting. What's wrong? Does something hurt you? Or-"

"Sam, hey, calm down, okay?" I'm.. good. I just had a nightmare, that's all. Just a stupid nightmare."

"Dean," Sams voice sounded so sorrowful, and full of pity. _Don't you start pitying me, Baby brother._ "you were in purgatory, for months. It's not _okay_. You're not fine. It's not just a 'stupid nightmare'."

Dean ignored him. He sat up from the bed, and just let himself soak up Sams appearance. He looked bad. Worse than bad. His eyes were red and surrounded by dark shadows, his lips were trembling, and dry from the alchocol Dean could still smell on them, his hair was lifeless, and his voice sounded.. broken. _Don't you break on me now, Sam._

"Sam." He let the word ring out, and stop Sams ranting. The realisation sank in. He was out of purgatory. Sam was right in front of him, talked to him, stood before him. _He was out of purgatory. Finally._

"I'm.." Sams voice broke, his eyes still trained on Deans. "God, Dead, I thought you weren't.. I thought I'd never see you again."

"Shh, Sammy, everything's good." And Sam was in his arms immediately. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Dean.."

"I'm glad to be back." grunted Dean, under sams weight. Sam was really too old for this. Dean wouldn't let him cling to him like this the next time, he decided. _I hope there won't be a next time._

"Alright now, Sam, time to let me go. If you don't stop with the chick-flick moment thsi instant, I swear I'll make arrangements to go back down there."

And when Sam finally straightened out and pulled back, he could swear he saw a trace of a smile on his face. He returned the smile.

* * *

**A.N. So people, one more chapter with boring talk, then comes the action.. I never thought it would be so hard to write this stuff :P There are a lot of things I have to mention, and a lot of new information to squeeze somewhere but I don't want to make it just talk... this is difficult, man O.o**

**Well, I hope you people like it anyways, and review? *shy smile* Next chapter comes the confrontation.. kinda :D  
**

**P.s. Amorel is my own made up archangel... I don't really like OC, but there will be some of them :P Amorel meaning 'love of god'  
**


	3. The Unforgiven, excluding Cas

"Let's call Cas." Dean talked business. He didn't want to keep this facade up any longer. For days now, on end, Sam let his be, but he knew it was time to stop pretending. Sam wanted answers, even of he stopped himself from asking, for Deans sake. And Dean needed to do something right the fuck _now_, or his head would implode, and this stupid motel room with him. It's been _weeks_, his wounds were healed, their fights over them fought, he was _fine. _He rested enough for now. Besides, he didn't think any rest of the world would heal him in the right places again.

"What? Why? Cas disappeared on you in purgatory, then he disappeared on me! He wouldn't show up, no matter how long I called. Why would we want to call him now?" This was the first time Dean has seen Sam angry at the angel, and maybe that was a good thing, maybe he had finally outgrown his silly trust and respect for them. But they needed Cas right now. Besides, Dean wasn't angry at him anymore. He had lost all that in the purgatory, with all those monsters. The other angels, though? They were another story.

"Have you had a dream about an angel named Amorel recently?" Dean asked instead of explaining, as he walked around the dirty motel kitchen. His greasy excuse of a breakfast didn't seem like such a good idea anymore, so he let it die in piece on the counter.

"Oh, yes. He came to you as well? Wait.. Was he the one who pulled you out? " Sam sounded astonished. So Dean wasn't the only one who didn't trust the ridiculous angel, if he even was one.

"I don't think so. He said so, but I don't remember it. I just know I was running from some beasts, and then I was up here again, calling out your name as I saw you, and passing out."

"Dean, he said him, and some other lower angels want to rebel against the other archangels, and that they need us."

"What other archangels? Michael is in the cage with Lucifer, Uriel is dean, Raphael was killed by Cas, and Gabriel sure as hell won't help anyone when it comes to this, - or anything else as a matter of fact- just like the smart bastard he is."

"Yes, but there are three more."

"Three? Sam, there are only seven archangels in the bible." It felt good to be talking and arguing with Sam again, but this was weird. Wasn't Sam supposed to be the geek boy who knew everything?

"Yes, the five you counted, Chamael and Jophiel, and Amorel." Sam said impatiently, sitting down on the kitchen chair, and watching Dean pace around the room with an annoyed expression gracing his face.

"Amorel?" _No way._ "Let me get this straight. You mean, Amorel's an archangel? He didn't act like it at all." With his soothing voice, and mild body language.

"I know, but he said he was the secret archangel. The only one never mentioned in the bible. Or anywhere. The strongest. Even stronger than Michael, he said. And I kind of believe him. I don't think he would be planing to rebel if he wasn't strong enough." And that was his Sammy boy.

"You're right, angels aren't stupid. They're just dicks." _Harsh_, but true. "So, how do you think we get away, if we don't ask Cas? The enochian signs on us obviously don't-"

"Wait, what? 'Get away'? You don't wanna help them?" Sam sounded surprised. He practically jumped up from his chair, as if he was planing a long and tiering argument, one only Sam would be able to pull off. "But they want to take down the bad guys, Dean. Maybe we should help them."

Dean sighed. He moved towards the window, looking out, instead of at his brother. How should he explain this? How should he tell his brother he doesn't want anything to do with the angels, or demons, or hunting anymore? He was the one who pulled Sam into this life again, who pushed him back in, again and again, constantly and tirelessly. He was the one who made Sam feel guilty for leaving. Him alone. And now, he wants to back out? What a selfish little bastard he was.

_'I'm your family, we're supposed to be a team, remember? It's supposed to be you and me against the world. Right?'_

_'It is.'  
_

_'Is it?'  
_

"No, not anymore." he whispered, and then louder, for Sam to hear, "Sam, they're angels. This isn't such a bog deal to them. It's like a kids fight. _'Oh someone threw a tantrum', _and five minutes later, they're best friends again. But you and me? We're just humans. We can get hurt, die, again. They don't even really need us. And this? This isn't just some hunt. This is too big for us."

"'Too big'?" Sam sat back down, obviously dejected. He sounded hurt. He probably was. And he probably had the right to be, as well. Nothing was supposed to be 'too big' for his older brother. _I'm sorry, Sam_, Dean thought, _I let you down again._

_'I had one job, and I screwed it up. But I guess that's what I do. I let Dad down. Now I guess I just have to let you down too.'_

"Dean, what happened down there?" Sam asked quietly, seriously, and _down there _sounded so much like hell, Dean had to stop himself from covering his ears.

"Nothing. I just had to survive. I, I don't wanna talk about it." Nice one. The fact that his voice broke will surely calm Sam down, Dean thought sourly.

"Dean, please. Let me help. I can- "

"No, Sam. I'm fine." he tried sounding nonchalant. Instead, he sounded as if something died in his throat. Maybe it were his guts, he thought. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Alright." Dean wanted to kiss him, that's how thankful he was. "So we stay away from the angels, excluding Cas."

"Yeah. Then, let's call him." Dean walked back towards the kitchen table, but not before sparing the window another glance. Something felt really weird, as if someone was watching him fromk outside. Sam obviously didn' share his discomfort, so he let it slide and sat down. He began turning over the pages of the daily news, feigning indifference the whole time 'till he shouted; "Cas, hey, Castiel! We need you, Cas!"

Nothing. Besides Sam's grunt of pain, and an angry mutter of 'I'm deaf now, thanks!' Dean smirked.

"Castiel, we need your help." Sam tried after a long moment.

Nothing.

"Sorry to tell you, Sam, but if he didn't answer to me, he sure as hell won't answer to you." he said, and smirked again.

"Shut up." Sam answered, but there was a grin playing on his lips. God, how he missed Sam. "So, what do we do now? Wait for Cas, or Amorel to show up?"

"I think I have an idea." Dean said, and pushed the newspaper towards Sam. Maybe this really wasn't the thing he wanted to do right now, but it was better then angels, and he really needed Sam to stop thinking about his time in purgatory. They needed some real male bonding. "Let's hunt some werewolves!"

* * *

**A.N. Next time: Finally some action, longer chapters, more chick-flick moments, and more purgatory. Don't worry, guys, even if it doesn't look like it, I'm planing on using Deans purgatory trauma A LOT ;D. Besides that, I have finally found the right villain for this story, and this story will start with the real plot soon :)**

**Review people, and let me know what you think! 'till the next time :)  
**


	4. From three to one

The coffee was pleasantly warm in his hands, as the cold Montana wind tirelessly blew in his face. The streets were quiet, the parking lot empty, besides his Impala on the far end. _Good timing for a storm, _Dean thought, satisfied, _no poor bastard to tap right into the werewolf's_ trap.

He went through the plan once more, as he made his way towards his baby. Breakfast, more research, now, the fun part begins by nightfa-

Dean stopped in his tracks. What was _that?_ Black fog, or dust, or something, was whirling around a tree near his car. It shifted slowly, creeping Dean out to an unusually high degree, till it finally had the shape of a human. _Maybe a demon, _Dean thought as he quickened his pace, _but no, demons never stay in this form for a longer time, it wasn't their MO._

As soon as he reached the car, he puled open the trunk, left breakfast and the now cold coffee, and took out the longer shotgun. One more look around confirmed that the lot was really empty, and he was ready for action. _Now, back to business-_

But as soon as he turned back, the fog disappeared, or dispersed, Dean couldn't tell. All right, Dean spent time in hell and in purgatory, but that was bat shit weird, even for him. It was the only thing he could think about, as he got into his car, and pulled out of the lot, but in the end, he decided to keep quiet about it. Sam didn't need to know about this. Not now, anyways. _  
_

* * *

9:45 P.M. The streets are empty. The house he's observing- stalking, really- is quiet. The werewolf is obviously still asleep.

Dean tapped his foot impatiently against the wet asphalt. It was blowing uncontrollably, but at least the heavy rain stopped.

_Sam was supposed to be here around 9 P.M._,_ dammit._ The werewolf would attack soon, if he hasn't already. Dean didn't think he had, yet the house was giant, and the garden surrounding it even bigger, and Dean had no means to watch the whole area, from where he was leaning on his Impala by the house's- mansion's- gate. But he didn't worry so much, the werewolf's MO was to bring the snack back home before killing them, so Dean was pretty sure he would see something before it was too late. Or so he hoped.

_Fuck this, _he thought, after fifteen more minutes past,_ Sam can join in when he gets here._

He began loading his guns with silver bullets, before moving towards the gate. The security system was no problem for him, neither was climbing, and soon he found himself walking towards the front doors. _No use in hiding, anyways._

He cursed loudly when he heard shouts and glass breaking coming from the inside, and he quickened his pace to a fast run. His curses were lost in the strong wind, and he was grateful for the unusual cover. He doubted even the werewolf's ears could pick him up. One more shout, the moment he reached the door, and then he was B&E-ing the place like there was no tomorrow.

"Son of a-" he began, before the beasts hisses shut him up. One victim was lying just a few feet from him, a man with black hair and _a lot_ of tattoos gracing his skin, and Dean knew, as soon as he lay his eyes on the man's wounds, that he had no chance of surviving.

The other victim was a teenage girl , unhurt as far as he could see, and with a very angry look on her face. She was shouting, _at the wolf_, one finger pointed at it, and one at the almost Dead man. The wolf was actually _scared_ of her, and Dean couldn't help his short laugh, despite the situation.

Before both of them noticed him, he was on the move, his instincts setting in. He ran towards the wolf, showing no fear, and positioned his gun._ 'Die' _was on his lips, yet the girls voice startled him out of it.

"Stop!" she shouted, panicked, "Who are you? What are you doing?"

He didn't like talking while danger was this near, but when she moved right in front of the wolf, he had no choice. "What are _you_ doing? Move outta the way, kid. I'm trying to kill the beast."

Two growls followed his warning, one from the girl, one from the wolf. "He's no beast! You can't hurt him! He hasn't done anything wrong. I'm helping him."

Dean snorted at that, and glanced at the man lying on the floor. The girl obviously got the message, yet she was most likely all kinds of crazy, because she only took a step closer to the wolf. "It's not his fault. It was an accident."

He was ready to ask how using someone as a chew toy was supposed to be an accident, when Sam's voice right behind him startled him. So he wasn't the only one using the storm to his advantage.

"Please step away from the werewolf, Amy. He's not your boyfriend anymore." Sam said softly, but the girl- Amy- only shook her head. Dean huffed impatiently, and turned his attention from Sam back to her just in time to see her pull out a gun and point it at Sam, who was standing next to him.

"That's not true! You're lying. He loves me! He's still somewhere in there, and I won't let you hurt him."

"But you will let him hurt other people? He killed your brother." Sam said slowly, and Dean really wondered how much patience he must have had. _So that's what happened, _he thought as he watched Amy watching the man on the floor. _Poor idiot._

"Put the gun down now, or I'll have to make you." he interrupted her. They had no time for this, the werewolf was beginning to fidget behind the girl, as he looked at her hungrily, as far as Dean could tell. _Yeah right, love._

She was still pointing her gun at Sam after a few minutes. He doubted she would shoot, but he wasn't 100% sure, and it unnerved him to no end. It seemed his worries were justified.

He saw the girls eyes harden- he could recognize that look everywhere, he saw it in the mirror, every damn day- and he responded with what he was sure was a matching look.

He felt the shot more than he saw or heard it. The girl fell on the floor, a red pattern blossomed on her white shirt, but he had no time to reminisce. The wolf was trying to flee, and Dean wasn't about to let it. Ignoring Sam's shout he followed the werewolf, shot him dead, but not before hit in the felt pain coursing through his scull a lot faster than he imagined being possible, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Sam catching him as he fell.

* * *

If there was something he didn't miss while in purgatory, Dean thought grumpily, it was this. The silence Sam was regarding him with ever since last nights hunt, although good for his killer headache, was pulling his nerves tight as a string. Sam started no arguments, didn't even attempt to scold him for getting hurt, nothing, and it was slowly, but surely driving him crazy.

"So, the silent treatment now, huh?" he finally asked after a few more hours of awkward TV watching. Sam didn't even blink. "Come on, man, don't give me that-"

"What do you want from me, Dean? What do you want me to say?" Sam interrupted him._ Finally._

"I know it was reckless of me to run after it, alright? I'm sorry." Dean started reluctantly, but Sam's look shut him up.

"I can't believe you! You think that's why I'm angry? You really don't see any other problem here? No," Sam continued, not letting Dean answer, "don't even answer that. I don't need to know.. I don't even know what I'm doing here, or who you are! " ,and then lower, not looking at Dean, "What happened to you?"

Silence filled the room once more. The TV was long muted, nut his light illuminated Deans shocked face. "What... You- I don't understand.." he finally said softly, unsure.

"How could you shoot her just like that? She was an innocent girl, Dean, and you killed her without even blinking!" Sam shouted at him.

"She was a threat, I eliminated her. That's it, end of story."

"So that's all this is to you about now? Find a threat, eliminate them? Dean, this isn't just about killing. It's about Saving People, Hunting Things. Isn't that what dad always told us?"

And that was it. The one thing to set him off, and Sam said it. But then again, Sam always knew how to push his buttons. Sam cared about what dad said _now_, huh? "News flash, Sam, dad isn't here anymore, and it stopped being that simple a long time ago."

"I, I can't believe you! What did that place do to you?" Sam asked again, standing up and looking, just, _lost.__  
_

"It made me open my eyes, Sam. It made me realise that all this isn't as sugar coated as we saw it."

"I don't know you." Sam said finally, and turned from Dean. He grabbed his still unpacked duffel bag, and walked towards the door. The scene looked too much like_ that time_, for Dean not to shiver slightly.

_'If you walk out that door..'_

"I need some time off." Sam continued lowly after a moment, and his bread hunched over shoulders, so Sammy-like, where the last thing he saw before the tears overflew. Dean didn't cry. It was just something that didn't happen. Yet as he continued standing there, in the middle of nowhere, he felt there were a lot of things he wasn't supposed to do, and he did all of them anyways. He broke all of his promises. _Everything_ changed.

_'The three of us, that's all we have left, all I have left.'__  
_

From three to one. He felt utterly lonely. He was broken beyond repair, and the only person who ever mattered to him walked out on him for a thing he couldn't help feeling. He was absolutely alone. Again.

* * *

**A.N. So people, inspiration finally hit me :) Currently I'm in a Criminal Minds fangirly mode, so sorry if the updates get slower :P But you all know what could make them come faster, doncha? So review, people!  
**


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